


The Three Date Minimum

by justsomebucky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bars and Pubs, Drinking, F/M, Mild Language, Old People Jokes, Retirement Home, Sexual Humor, wade wilson is a crazy person, wade wilson's sense of humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 16:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsomebucky/pseuds/justsomebucky
Summary: Reader is the last single person at her office, and while she puts on a good front, she’s lonely. Will dating apps find true love, or will she swear off romance for good?





	1. Chapter 1

Honestly, the ring was gorgeous.

You’d be crazy to not admit it. It was sparkly and classic and everything a ring should be. It wasn’t your ring; god, _no_ , you would never settle for a man who wanted to change you every time you breathed.

Your coworker Rachel was newly engaged to her longtime boyfriend (the one who was trying to change her). She was the talk of the office for most of Friday.

You were happy for her if she was happy, _really_ , but you couldn’t understand why she was in such a rush to legally bind herself to such a man. She wasn’t his personal maid, nor should she give up her passions in life. She was supposed to be his _partner_ in life, each sharing their passions with each other.

In the end, your opinion didn’t really matter, but they could keep that kinda marriage.

In fact, you were so convinced the dating pool wasn’t going to have anyone different than Rachel’s fiancé (or worse… _much_ worse), so you gave up trying for a while. Some (like your roommate) called you ridiculous for it, but you didn’t have the energy to put into anything less than a relationship that was worth it.

And yes, you’d been single for a while now, but…so be it.

Besides, being the talk of a twenty-person office wasn’t really that big of a deal, right? As the Manhattan branch of a worldwide charity, everyone had loads of work to do helping impoverished women and children. You had a crap ton of money to raise and no time to waste.

When your coworker Wanda rolled her desk chair beside yours, though, you knew you hadn’t heard the last of Rachel’s new ring.

She was giving you that look again, that ‘ _it’s-okay-it’ll-be-you-someday’_ look.

You gave her a look of your own. “Wan, I’m fine. I promise. I’m happy for her.”

“Have you told _her_ that?”

“Not…not yet. There’s a lot of people over there still. I was waiting for the crowd to die down.”

The two of you glanced over at the positively glowing Rachel, who only had two colleagues milling around her now.

You turned back to your computer. “Anyway, I’m a little busy here, Wan, I have lots of calls to make.”

“You can’t fool me.” Wanda rolled her eyes. “There’s a way to solve your loneliness, Y/N.”

“I am _not_ lonely. Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Who did you speak to last night, then? Which humans have you communicated with that you don’t see at work on a daily basis?”

You thought about it for a second. “Natasha.”

“Besides your roommate.” Wanda looked exasperated now. “Come on, Y/N, if you even say Jim Halpert or someone from The Office, I’ll scream.”

“For your information, I watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine last night.”

“You need to try some dating apps, Y/N. That’s how everyone seems to meet these days.”

“That’s not how you met Vis.”

She rolled her eyes a second time. “Totally different scenario there. I went out and met people willingly. You need the apps to push you out of your comfort zone.”

“Absolutely not. I feel like we’ve had this conversation be-”

“ _Ladies_.”

You immediately stopped talking and turned to your boss, Nakia. “Hello! Back so soon?”

She was the best boss ever, to be sure. Her heart was bigger than all five boroughs of New York, and every day she made strides to make sure that those who truly needed her help received it. Everything you knew and loved about non-profits you learned from her.

Nakia gave you a warm smile. “I am only here for the afternoon. I just wanted to remind you of our fundraising goals this month.”

“Oh, right.” Your brows furrowed as you reached for a post-it note on your monitor, waving it so she could see. “Got them right here, Boss.”

“Good. I don’t want anyone to be able to say we didn’t do our part, Y/N.”

“Of course.”

She gave a nod of greeting toward Wanda. “I’ll be back in a week or so. I have an important meeting with a potential resource in Wakanda. In the meantime I’ve left Rachel in charge of the day-to-day operations. Have you both seen her ring?”

The smug look Wanda gave you just then haunted your thoughts all afternoon.

—-

When you got home from work that evening, you immediately changed into some comfy pajamas, poured yourself some wine, turned on the TV, and caught up with your newest favorite TV husband, Jake Peralta.

The peaceful joy of binge-watching a great show in an empty apartment didn’t last very long, though. A loud groan sounded from the kitchenette behind you. You didn’t even bother to glance back at your roommate of six months, Natasha.

“Not again, Y/N! It’s a freakin’ Friday night! You’re young and you’re sitting at home, _again_!”

 “You wouldn’t understand. Jake is wonderful and I love him.”

“It’s been four months, Y/N. _Four_ months of this shit. You have to get back out there.”

“Do I?” You turned your head to give her a look. “I don’t remember there being a time limit. I don’t remember relationships being a requirement for a happy life.”

So maybe you hadn’t always bitter about dating. It had been four months since your last major breakup, but there was no scandal involved. He didn’t cheat, there was no one else…he just lost interest. You stopped being enough for him.

How utterly boring and sad, right?

After that, you pretty much lost interest in dating, too. It wasn’t that you thought the dating pool was mediocre as you’d tried to convince yourself so often, including that very morning.

As hard as it was to admit, you just weren’t ready for the inevitable end of the relationship. You weren’t ready for someone to tell you that you weren’t enough again.

You said that to yourself enough over the last four months.

None of that stopped your best friend and roommate Natasha from trying to get you to date again. Every weekend, she’d been encouraging you to go out and meet someone new, suggesting new dating trends or events she’d heard about. 

“Yes, you do,” she insisted, flopping down on the couch beside you. “Have you tried Tinder?”

“No.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Give me your phone.”

You clutched it to your chest in alarm. “No! I don’t want a hookup.”

“It doesn’t have to be a hookup, Y/N, you can actually meet nice guys on there!”

“Haven’t you heard enough horror stories about Tinder? Absolutely not.”

To put the final emphasis on your statement, you turned the volume up. The TV blared the Christmas episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine where they get stuck in the department store, one of your favorites.

Natasha still wouldn’t take the hint. “Fine. Then come with me to this singles event happening in downtown Brooklyn tonight. It’s speed-dating, how hilarious is that?”

That made you glance up again. “Now why on Earth would I want to do that?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I just thought it would be a great time for you to see other humans for once. And these are only three-minute dates, so it’s bound to be over before you try to sabotage it, right?”

You scoffed. “Your jokes could use some work.”

Natasha reached over and stole the remote from your hand, pausing your show just as Gina gets captured. “Come on, Y/N. I’ll pay for you to get in, I’ll even leave you alone for two whole weeks about dating.”

“Two weeks isn’t a long enough time.”

_Torture_.

That’s what Nat was asking you to partake in. You hated small talk, and what a terrible way to be forced to talk to someone than at an event where they will definitely try to get their money’s worth.

“Come _on_ , Y/N! It’s this new bar and everyone’s talking about it. It’s not even that far from here! I really want you to go with me.”

Natasha’s face was scrunched up and pleading and dammit, you hated when she got like this.

Okay, _whatever_.

“Fine,” you sighed, leaning your head back against the cushions. “I will agree to a three date minimum. Three dates, and if there’s no interest piqued, then I get to go back to watching my TV husband for an entire _month_ with not one single peep from you. _And_ you have to tell Wanda to lay off. Agreed?”

She looked satisfied, almost as smug as Wanda did earlier. “Agreed.”

“Good.”

Just as you headed to your room, about to close your door to change, Nat shouted, “Speed-dating counts as just one date though!”

Maybe you shut the door on her a little louder than necessary. 

_Ugh_.


	2. Chapter 2

“I wasn’t even supposed to be in that neighborhood, can you believe it? The bus was late and I had to make sure my daughter got to school okay so I just drove her myself. So anyway, there I was just minding my own business, and out of nowhere I see –”

_DING!_

“I’m so sorry,” you said, offering a forced smile to the guy across the table. “I think our time is up.”

Your current speed date, Scott Lang, looked genuinely disappointed that he couldn’t finish his story about the time he met some famous somebody-or-other.

“Definitely rating this date as my best of the night, so far,” Scott said as he stood, reaching for your hand to give it a peck. “It was great to meet you, Y/N.”

“It was nice to meet you, too.” You tried to force a smile to your face for his sake. “Take care, Scott.”

He flashed another boyish grin and gave you a wave before awkwardly wandering over to his next date’s table.  

Well, now you felt awful. It wasn’t that he was a bad or boring guy, it’s just…there wasn’t any spark. Maybe that was stupid, but it was how you felt. And while you believed him when he said his daughter was an angel, you weren’t ready to be a step-mom.

Anyway, first speed-dating experience wasn’t all that great, just as you had predicted.

Your dates so far were a lawyer who seemed suspiciously interested in your driving record, a dentist who tried to get you to show him your teeth and then commented that he could see the plaque from across the table, a guy who had just moved to New York following some time spent in jail for insider trading (' _white collar crimes barely count_ ' according to him), someone who couldn’t stop talking about his mother, and now Scott Lang, nice guy extraordinaire. To be fair, Scott was the best of the bunch.

Meanwhile, Natasha looked like she was having the time of her life. She had so many free drinks and more than once you saw guys arguing when their time was up and they didn’t want to leave her table.

Wearily, you glanced at the clock on the wall. There was still another forty-five minutes to go.

For a bar called _The 107th_ in the middle of Brooklyn, you would have thought the experience would be a little more interesting. It was new place, supposedly trendy, and had a confusing name (it wasn’t on 107th street??), but to you it seemed like a normal local bar.

And even after your last semi-decent date, the thought of going through yet another three-minute introduction with someone new made you anxious. Before the next guy could get to your table, you gathered your coat and bag and ripped off your name tag, making your way over to the bar.

\---

“What’re you having?”

You eyed the bartender, not bothering to reply just yet since you were mid-sip. He must have just started his shift, because when you first arrived there was a tiny woman with mermaid hair tending to customers.

The alcohol was just a band-aid for the situation, really. You never used it as a crutch, but some situations called for a little backup. It was liquid courage for some, and a little liquid tolerance for you.

When you put the now-empty glass back down, you pushed it toward him like you were in some kind of cowboy movie. “Rum and coke.”

He gave a nod and turned away to refill your drink, looking a little bored with your choice.

You let your eyes flicker up to the mirror above the shelves and shelves of liquor. Behind you, the speed-dating was just wrapping up with the final round. The results would be handed out soon; you hoped Scott Lang had found someone better suited for him.

As for you? Most of your time had been spent at the bar and Natasha hadn’t even noticed.

“I heard a rumor that dating used to be an organic thing,” the bartender mused, breaking you out of your reverie. He set your new drink in front of you. “You know, meeting someone, feeling a spark, going on a first date…”

You shook your head. “That’s not how it works anymore. It’s the digital era of dating. Now you’ve got to have a pristine profile complete with model-level selfies to gain anyone’s attention, or come to shit like this in a basic bar and hope someone finds you tolerable.”

He didn’t seem offended by your little insult. “You’re a part of that group, right? So why are you sitting over here instead of talking to your last date?”

Your brows furrowed a little. “You ask a lot of questions for a bartender. Is that normal?”

He gave you an amused look. “Just curious. These events cost money, right?”

“They do,” you confirmed. “But the only reason I’m here is because my roommate paid. She caught me watching TV in my pajamas on a Friday night again and she wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed to go.”

“Nice. So which one is she?” The bartender leaned over, arms resting on the bar top as his eyes scanned the crowd.

There was no point in hiding her. He would have spotted her eventually, anyways.

You reluctantly spun on your barstool and found her almost immediately. Her megawatt smile lit up the room; how could anyone possibly miss her in a crowd?

“There,” you said, pointing. “Natasha, the beautiful redhead standing over in that corner.” You glanced back at him to see him squinting that direction.

Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to instantly drool over her like everyone else tends to. That confused you, since he wasn’t unfortunate-looking himself.He would definitely be her type.

“So if she’s your friend and she brought you here to help you, why has she not noticed you over here drinking all alone?”

The barstool squeaked as you turned back around. “Because this is what happens.”

He stared at you blankly.

“She gets the attention,” you explained, taking another sip. “I get the hangover.”

Your nosy bartender didn’t look convinced. “How do you figure that? Didn’t you just have a few speed dates?”

“Yes, but they’re in rotation, they _had_ to come to my table. She literally had guys fighting to have more than three minutes with her.”

He made a face but didn’t say anything, so you continued.

“And I know because it’s happened _always_. Every friend I’ve ever had has been more enticing than me, from high school all the way through college, where my roommate then was _also_ a bombshell who turned heads everywhere she went. I’m so used to being invisible that it’s second nature.”

“Well…I’d say your name in a scolding tone, but you ripped your name tag off already.” He shifted on his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. “It sounds to me like you’re making excuses to protect yourself. When is the last time you put in any effort? Do you just brush everyone off? Do you even try?”

“Try?”

“Let yourself be open to the possibilities?”

The possibilities? What the hell was with this guy? Was he some kind of failed psych major? It took all your strength not to splash your drink in his face and leave. He was lucky you were trying to be nice.

You could feel your blood pressure rise. “First of all, whatever your name is, I don’t think you know me well enough to sit behind your bar counter and judge me!”

The corner of his mouth lifted a little in amusement. And no, he was most definitely not more attractive in that moment. _Absolutely not_.

“Name’s James, but my friends call me Bucky.” His head tilted a little and you saw that his eyes were a cool blue-grey color, with just a little obnoxious twinkle in them. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, do you try?” He had that stupid, infuriating little hint of a smile again. God, it was amazing that this place was still in business with an obnoxious guy like him at the bar.

“ _Yes_ , I try. I just sat through _five_ three-minute dates, for fuck’s sake. I just…I’m not meant for anything like that.”

“You know when I said try, I didn’t mean actively push people away.” Both eyebrows raised as he assessed you again. “Because I think that’s exactly what you’re doing, even with me right now.”

The door opened then, and a huge crowd of women donning matching pink shirts walked in giggling with a girl wearing a sash that said _Bride_. That was your cue to get the hell out of that bar.

You downed the rest of your drink quickly, offering him a small fake smile as you set the glass down. “Yes, well…I think I’m going to swipe left on this conversation. It’s been…enlightening, James.” You reached into your bag to pull out some money, but the bartender waved his hands.

“Call me Bucky. And it’s on the house. You seem like you needed it.” With a nod and wink, he turned away again to make the million shots a newly-arrived bachelorette party wanted.

As if you would ever accept something for free from someone with _that_ attitude…

“Thanks anyway, _James,”_ you muttered. Without a glance back to him, you set the money on the bar and stood up, determined to either pull Natasha away or leave her there.

\---

“One date down, two to go.” You stretched your legs out under the table and leaned back. Wanda wanted to hear all about the event the night before, so the two of you went to a nearby café for a quick lunch.

Wanda eyed you over her coffee cup. “That only counted as one date?”

“Apparently,” you muttered, picking at your scone. “Natasha’s rules.”

She leaned forward. “Got any ideas for the next two?”

“No, not unless you know someone?”

“There are lots of _someones_ on dating apps, Y/N.”

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. “Wan, not now.”

“Come on,” she chided, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “If you give some of the apps a try, I’ll…I’ll do your donation calls for a week.”

That had you interested. Not only could you potentially be left alone for a month, but have less work to do. “ _Two_ weeks, one for each remaining date.”

Wanda held out her hand and you shook it.

She had the nerve to look genuinely excited, that absolute witch. “First I think we’ll try Tinder. My neighbor’s husband’s sister met the love of her life…”

You sighed as you tuned her out, trying to enjoy your last moments of Tinder-free life.

\---

After lunch, Wanda came over and teamed up with Natasha to harass you until you agreed to download the dating apps.They helped set up your account, even forced you to take about fifty pictures before they were satisfied with your profile.

“Wait, what do I do?” You glared down at the offending app on your phone, trying to ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach.

Natasha flopped down on the couch next to you. “When you see a profile of someone you’re interested in, you swipe right. If they swiped right on you too, it’ll tell you that you’ve made a match.”

“What’s the blue star thing for?”

“A super like!” Wanda’s eyes lit up. “I wonder if you will find any of those!”

 _Unlikely_.

“So, in theory, I could like all these people and they could loathe me and I would never know?” That didn’t sound so bad. It was like less hurtful window shopping.

“Sometimes you’ll get the occasional douchebag and you’ll have to put up with bad messages, but yes, that’s generally how that works.”

You played around on the app in silence for about five minutes, going through and swiping left on most of the profiles you read.

“What was wrong with that last one?” Wanda asked, frowning at you. “He seemed cute? He had a kayak and a puppy! You _love_ puppies.”

The last one she was talking about was also wearing a shirt that said _Federal Boob Investigator_ , but leave it to the romantic to not notice that.

“Just wasn’t feeling it.”

Natasha scoffed. “Are you gonna swipe right on anyone?”

You gave her a look. “Maybe.”

Before you could react, Nat grabbed your phone from your hand and started swiping right on almost everyone with a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Stop it! You’ll make me look desperate,” you screeched, trying to grab the phone back.

She let out a gasp, then turned the phone to you. “Y/N! Look at this guy. Look at him! His name is Wade and he is _perfect_!”

He was handsome enough, but his profile was pretty weird. “No, Natasha. He probably thinks he’s hilarious and has deep-rooted abandonment issues or something.”

“Exactly. You need someone different and exciting like that. We’re getting you out of your comfort zone, remember?”

You watched in horror as she swiped right.

Then, that wicked gleam in her eye got even brighter as she showed the screen again.

“It’s a match!”

“ _Natashaaaa_ ….”

“Oh shit, he messaged you already!”

“He did?” You snatched the phone back, crawling over her to get away. You didn’t want to admit it, but your stomach was in knots. “Oh my god, he did!”

“What’s it say?” Wanda leaned over. “Read it!”

“He wants to see me tomorrow.”

You read the message over and over. A handsome guy, who most definitely probably _definitely_ had some issues but also seemed cute and funny, wanted to see _you_.

God, you hoped you didn’t regret this.

When you glanced back up, they were both staring at you. Something about this whole situation seemed too good to be true. There was no way in hell that anything would last.

Logically, if you went into it thinking it was just a one-time date with a hot guy, there wouldn’t be a problem, right?

“ _Well_?”

“Are you gonna reply?”

And if there weren’t feelings involved, you could stand to have a little fun.

You grinned at them. “Of course. I have two bets to win now, don’t I?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

No matter how many times you told yourself that everything was going to be okay, you were still so freakin’ _nervous_.

Speed-dating was one thing…you didn’t have to put up with anyone for very long and you definitely had the chance to bail.

Your date with Wade was a _real_ date, one that required extended alone time with one human, awkward or not. Not only that, but he wanted to go out on a Sunday…

Why a Sunday? He hadn’t bothered to tell you that.

In fact, Wade hadn’t even told you where you were going yet. His last text had said, ‘ _Dress casually. Can’t wait_.’ followed by thirteen winky faces.

_THIRTEEN_!

What the hell could a grown-ass man accomplish by sending thirteen winky faces?

Anyway, you spent your morning with the nervous sweats while changing into five different ‘casual’ outfits, trying to decide which would be practical and comfortable but also make you feel less like a potato.

It didn’t help to have Natasha watching your every move, commenting on everything from your hair to your demeanor (you were _not_ being negative, you were just feeling a little _anxious!_ )

“Promise me that when he finally gets here you’re going to act a little more enthusiastic,” Natasha commented dryly from her seat on your bed. “If it’s already a bad date in your head, then it’s definitely not going to go well.”

“Can’t someone have more than one emotion, Nat? I am enthusiastically getting ready, after all.” You leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting the way the fabric of your shirt fell. “Do you think this –“

“It’s fine!” She stood up and pulled you away from the mirror, turning you around to face her before cupping your cheeks. “Y/N. You have to stay calm. You have to stay open-minded, okay? Wade has a lot of energy, he’s very excitable…just go with it for one night, okay?”

She was right, of course.

“I get it, Nat.”

“You can do this.” Her hands dropped from your face. “I believe in you.”

You gave a sharp nod, more for yourself than for her. “I can do this.”

Before Natasha could utter another word, the buzzer sounded.

It was five o’clock, and Wade had arrived.

* * *

 

To say that Wade Wilson was handsome would be insulting. He was _gorgeous_ , with bright eyes and a great smile. He was also funny, sweet, charming as hell, and as Natasha had said, really energetic.

So energetic, in fact, that you were tired before you even got to the cab out front. As a self-made introvert, you just weren’t on his level anymore.

He opened the door for you, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture towards the back seat. “Ladies first.”

“Thanks,” you said, getting into the cab and scooting over to make room for Wade.

“Hello!”

You looked up at the rearview mirror, meeting the eyes of the driver. “Hello.”

“Dopinder, what did I say?” Wade chided, shaking his head. He looked over to you apologetically. “Don’t mind him, he’s just my regular driver so I asked for a favor tonight.”

“Mr. Wade, where are we going?” Dopinder asked, glancing at you again in his mirror. “Where does the young lady want to go?”

“I have _plans_ to really wow this one.” Wade gave you a nod and a wink. “It’s 2865 West 3rd Street, here in Brooklyn.”

Dopinder looked confused for a second after typing the address into his GPS. “But Mr. Wade, that’s a –“

“Just drive!”

You shifted uncomfortably. What the hell was going on?

Where was Wade taking you?

“You know, Y/N, I feel like I ordered you off of Amazon or something,” he commented.

Your eyes met his again, and you tried to bite back a laugh. “Why is that?”

Wade’s thoughts went a mile a minute. “Well, it’s like something on my Wish List was finally back in stock, you know? And I got that little email alert, and my eyes lit up like a kid on his birthday, so I rushed over in a crappy cab to open your box. Well, not that box, maybe later though I don’t want to press my luck. Of course, maybe that’s a bad analogy since you seem really nice and Amazon is a corporate nightmare. Also Jeff Bezos is a real dickhead, he could end world hunger six times over but he doesn’t, so he deserves to have his nuts put in a blen-“

“We’re here!” Dopinder announced.

“Thank god,” you muttered, opening up your door and exiting the cab as quickly as possible. When you turned to look at the building you’d been dropped off in front of, your eyes narrowed in question.

“Shoreview Retirement Home,” you read out loud, turning to Wade in confusion as he finished paying Dopinder. “Wade, why…why are we at a retirement home?”

His eyes gleamed in the street light. “Oh, it’s not just any retirement home, Y/N. This is the home my Nana was at before her untimely passing.”

All you could do was follow him up the cement stairs and into the lobby. “But that only leads me to more questions, like, why are we at a retirement home for a date where your Nana _used_ to be?”

The question fell on deaf ears, though, as Wade signed in at the front desk and was almost immediately surrounded by about eight different elderly women in wheelchairs, all reaching for him with big grins on their faces.

So he was popular with the elderly…big deal. It was kind of sweet, right? He clearly had a bond with these ladies, probably from all the time spent when his Nana was still around. It was really sweet that he still volunteered here.

“I don’t even volunteer here,” Wade called from the center of the granny cyclone. “I just show up to kick some old-timer ass at shuffleboard and eat all their applesauce. Greatest generation my ass!”

_“It’s pudding night, hot stuff!”_

“Watch your hands there, Gladys!”

His hands formed a little heart shape in your direction. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

* * *

 

“Okay, Y/N…the secret to being really _really_ good at shuffleboard is to be the disc. Feel its path. Become one with the disc.” Wade reached around you and gripped your cue, making you feel incredibly uncomfortable for, oh, about the hundredth time since you arrived. “Here, let me show you in a not-at-all suggestive way.”

“I think I got it, Wade.”

“Okay, but just watch out, because that Dorothy over there, she’s a real competitor. She’s won the last five championships here, and I’ve seen her make some cutthroat moves to get that trophy.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Isn’t that right, Dot, you fucking cheater?”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I’ll keep an eye out for Dorothy.”

Taking a turn was nerve-wracking, because not only was Wade up your ass with every move, but the old ladies really did take the game seriously. Once you pushed the disc down the court, you sighed in relief. You’d never wished for an open bar at a retirement home before, but there was a first time for everything.

After a mediocre round where the disc didn’t even get close to the mark, you turned back to Wade, who was now seated between two elderly women you hadn’t met yet.  

“It’s _okay_ , Y/N,” he said, nodding toward the court. “It’s totally okay that you didn’t become the disc, and now Dorothy and Agnes are gonna take me for all their worth. It’s totally _fine.”_

So, you guessed it bothered him.

“Sylvia!” Wade shouted, jumping about a foot away from the little woman seated beside him. “Wait to pinch my ass until _after_ I win!”

“Stop putting it in front of me, hot stuff,” Sylvia replied, waggling her eyebrows at him.

Wade stood up and walked over to you, rubbing his backside dramatically. “That Sylvia, man, she’s a goddamn cougar. Or a cougar’s horny Grandma. Everyone else here knows the ass-pinching-during-shuffleboard etiquette.”

“Wade, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked the attention you got from these women.” You gestured around you. “And they like it too.”

“I like to keep their spirits up, Y/N.” His face grew serious, hands moving to his hips. “It’s not about me at all. I simply want to help some old women facing the end of their meaningless, stinky, diaper-ridden lives to have a little fun before they’re sent to the dirt. The men here could join too, but they just get so jealous. A shuttle with a working rocket booster can really cause some envy around here.”

“Fair enough,” you offered, handing him the cue for his turn and ignoring his last remark. “But I’m not a seasoned shuffleboard professional. If you can salvage this turn we still have a good chance at winning.”

He gave you a wink. “You’re damn right we do. Watch and learn, Y/N.”

You stood off to the side as Wade stepped up to the court, cue in hand as he stared his opponents down.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad. He liked helping others and he really did seem like the kind of guy who wanted to make the world a better place, even if it was in his own weird way. Plus, at least it wasn’t your run-of-the-mill dinner and a movie, right? It was something to talk about.

“God _dammit_ , Dorothy! I’m gonna yeet your fucking dentures into next Tuesday if you don’t stop cheating!”

You shrunk back against the brick wall behind you.

Then again, maybe he really did just like competing against senior citizens.

* * *

 

Once Wade was declared shuffleboard king (after challenging one of Agnes’ moves), he tried to get you to stay for celebratory rice pudding, but you insisted that you had to get home (at 7:30 PM on a Sunday).

Was it a good date?

Would you… _could you_ go out with him again?

It would take a lot of processing and probably a lot of alcohol to figure that one out, but it was still your second-best date so far.

At least this whole ordeal would be over soon and you could go back to watching Netflix.

You narrowly avoided having Dopinder pick you up by explaining that you liked to walk, and after a goodnight hug that lasted a little too long (with an almost-ass-grab that you also narrowly avoided), you and Wade parted ways.

As you passed the 107th on your way home, a strange urge to go inside and vent to the snarky bartender filled your veins. It would just be nice to talk to someone who was calm and witty instead of crazy and…well, crazy. Plus, it was too early to message Nat or Wanda without them hounding you for details.

Just one drink, you promised yourself as you stepped up to the door and reached for the handle.

On the door, a bright yellow notice informed you that the place was closed for a private party.

“Dammit,” you mumbled, lowering your hand. With a sigh, you turned back around to head home to whatever takeout and wine might be left in your fridge.

“Hey!”

Wait…

“Snarky bartender?” you asked, turning around to see Bucky opening the door. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to creep on the bar, I saw that notice and was leaving.”

A bemused smile lifted his lips. “Snarky bartender? Is that what you’ve been calling me in your head?”

“And out loud now, ‘cause I forgot your name,” you lied smoothly.  

“Sure you did. Just like I forgot yours, Y/N.” He kept the door propped open with his foot as he stepped further outside. “Did you want to come in?”

“I thought there was a private event?”

“There is.”

“It’s not a speed-dating event is it?”

“No, it’s an engagement party.”

Your brows stitched together. “Which means it’s invite only.”

“And I’m inviting you.”

“Won’t the host get mad?”

“No, I’m the host.”

“You’re the _what_ now?”

Bucky chuckled at your confused expression. “I mean, I own the place. This is my bar. So my invite stands, if you want.”

You eyed him warily. Why hadn’t he told you it was his bar and he was a snarky _owner_? “I shouldn’t. I have work in the morning.”

His head tilted a little as he pushed the door a little wider. “Come on, just stay for a few drinks, on the house. And I mean it this time.”

“Well when you put it that way.” You brushed past him and right into the party, his soft laugh echoing behind you.


End file.
